Thursday, May 10, 2001

Contemplations Comments

Rating: 2.6

Sometime now past in the Autumnal Tide,
When Ph{oe}bus wanted but one hour to bed,
The trees all richly clad, yet void of pride,
Were gilded o're by his rich golden head.
Their leaves and fruits seem'd painted but was true
...
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Anne Bradstreet

Anne Bradstreet

Northampton, England
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